Baby's Gotten Good at Goodbye
by DeviousLightningShot
Summary: When Quirrell and Voldemort get into a heated argument, Voldemort notices something that causes a slight panic within him. Set after AVPM. Short one-shot based on the song by George Strait.


**Hola everybody! Devious here with a quick one-shot I wrote in... about 20 minutes. I was just listening to Baby's Gotten Good at Goodbye, and this idea popped into my head. So... I hope you enjoy it, even if it may be a bit short, but this was just something I did when I was bored. So don't totally hate on every little thing I do, but I enjoy constructive criticism. But this was mostly, as well, a quick way to get myself one step closer to becoming a Beta Reader. So... if you review I will give you a cupcake! And if you have not seen AVPM, you will be a little confused on the pairing.**

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Voldemort wasn't sure how the fight had escalated as quickly as it did. It started pretty innocent, just about some normal everyday thing. It was, however, their first fight since they moved in together a little over two weeks ago. When they had decided upon this, they were hoping it would calm whatever had been causing their issues over the past few months. But here he stood, watching as Quirrell packed all his things into his muggle car and shut the trunk, turning back to look at him.

This usually happened before they got their own place together. Quirrell usually came to his house and they hung out there. However, whenever their arguments heated up like this had just done, Quirrell would break down into a sobbing mess and leave, turning back as he did now to look one more time before getting in his car and leaving. He always came back and Voldemort would apologize to him for everything he had said to him.

But this... it was different. They shared a house now. He couldn't just simply leave like he did before. However, after Quirrell had threatened to leave him and find his own place again Voldemort egged him on, thinking he didn't have the guts to leave. He watched in shock; however, as he loaded his things in and was now watching him stand on the front porch. But, staring into his eyes now, he noticed something that tore him apart more than any word or curse could have.

Quirrell was not crying.

Whenever he would leave, he was always sobbing hysterically when he looked back. Those tear-brimmed orbs would always indicate that Quirrell loved him too much to ever truly leave him like he always claimed. But as he stared steadily into Voldemort's own eyes, Voldemort got filled with a panic he had never felt before. What if Quirrell didn't love him anymore? Leaving him sure didn't seem like a problem. Quirrell meant too much to him to lose forever.

As he tried to speak, he couldn't find what he wanted to say. Instead his mouth hung open uselessly as he tried to form coherent words to express what he was feeling. But the only thing he had ever felt in his life before he met Quirrell was hatred. How could he express what he was feeling inside to him now? Doing that made him feel weak, as if he needed to depend on someone. And it was true. He needed Quirrell. But his darkened brain couldn't quite tell him that.

Quirrell had mistaken his lack of words as saying he had nothing more to say to him, and that he could not say a thing that might make him stay. Turning coldly away, he stalked up to the driver's side door and swung it open roughly, sitting down and starting the car. Without another glance over his shoulder, he placed the car in drive and made his way down the road, eventually disappearing from the sight of the house. Where he was going, no one would know.

Voldemort watched until the car made its way down the seemingly never ending street before making a right turn and disappearing from his view completely. He stood there for several moments later before he sunk to the ground. He slowly raised his hands to his face and sat there like that for a few minutes before running them through his hair and sighing. He had to try and stay positive. He knew Quirrell, and he always came back, whether it be to apologize or simply because he couldn't stand being away from him for a long period of time.

But the way he just stared right at him, no tears even lifting to the surface of his eyes, made Voldemort's whole body go numb. _You're overreacting! _He practically yelled at himself. _He always does this. He makes you think about everything you have done to him, but his heart is never truly set on goodbye. He just wants you to hear the things he needs to say before leaving so it will sink in deeper. _

But the more he sat there, the more Voldemort was lost for words. How was it that Quirrell had been strong enough to pack everything he owned and stuff into his car before staring him dead in the eyes without even threatening to shed a single tear? Any other time he would have stopped half way through the packing process because he simply could not go on with his body shaking from the sobs he was letting out. _But maybe... _Voldemort thought, staring over at where the car had disappeared. _This time... he really means goodbye. If he was not torn up about it, then that could mean he does not love him anymore._

With a long, emotion-filled sigh, Voldemort stood up and turned away, walking inside the seemingly empty home. _I just need to wait and see... _He thought to himself glumly. _If he comes back, great. If he doesn't... who needs him anyway!_

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Voldemort let out an annoyed growl as the doorbell rang, and he got swiftly off the bed he had been laying on to answer it. Once the door swung open, his eyes widened a bit and his breath caught in his throat. Quirrell was standing before him, although he looked rather dull and lifeless that day. It had been several weeks since they had fought, and Voldemort was sure he was never going to see him again.

He still couldn't get over how terrible Quirrell looked. Maybe he had broken down crying, but he just hadn't wanted Voldemort to see it so he wouldn't think of him as weak. Voldemort was about to smile with relief and apologize when Quirrell spoke, his voice sounding exasperated and tired.

"I forgot a box of my books in the garage," he muttered unenthusiastically, making his way past Voldemort and into the kitchen the once shared to get out to where he need to go. Voldemort was rooted to his spot, unable to make a move to go after him. He hadn't been back for him. He didn't even sound a little bit nervous to see him. He didn't have any sort of emotion to his voice, which made Voldemort internally cringe. He hardly felt it when Quirrell pushed his way past him once more, mumbling a 'Have a nice day' under his breath before driving away once more.

Voldemort slowly closed the door and stared at the tan piece of wood for minutes. He finally turned around and tried making his to the living room before he crumpled to the ground and sat there before doing the one thing no one would ever think about the Dark Lord doing. He sat on the floor of the hallway for hours upon hours crying.

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**Thanks for viewing my story! :) This was edited on 4/23, so if you are coming back to see it again and something has changed, that is why. Thanks, and comments are welcome. **


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